“When I gave it a name and established its identity, Jeong Ga-donggong was born.”
Jeong Yeon-shin reflected on this thought. The reason a fragment of the martial art manual he had devised in his childhood resurfaced was clear: ingrained martial techniques are the strongest weapon. Confronted with a formidable opponent, he recalled it instinctively.
The boy could recite over three hundred verses of the manual like a lightning strike, but devising new techniques mid-battle was nearly impossible.
Standing before him was a daejeok—a great adversary.
The elder swordsman, Geomgalma Dokgo Gwang.
He was a supreme expert of the Tenfold Gate.
The man, dressed in general-like battle armor, radiated an aura as stern as his attire. He was a martial artist counted among the top ranks of the Thirteen Heavens and someone said to rival the dark warriors of Ipwang Fortress.
The wrinkles around his eyes bore testimony to the weight of his experience in the martial world.
‘He’s the strongest opponent I’ve faced in my life.’
Jeong Yeon-shin thought.
This was an adversary unlike any he had encountered before. Even compared to Namgung Se-jin, the Azure Qilin, the gap in their skills felt insurmountable.
No matter how overwhelming the Imperial Sword Form might be, the oppressive aura exuded by the seasoned master before him was far more terrifying.
It wasn’t just the quality of his martial arts; it was the sheer height of his martial realm.
“Young prodigy, what are you waiting for? Fortune favors us both, but you are not at liberty to waste time.”
“......”
Despite Dokgo Gwang’s beckoning, Yeon-shin didn’t approach immediately.
Any additional time spent deliberating would increase his minuscule odds of victory. By observing his opponent and discerning their methods, he could gain a crucial edge—thanks to the accursed Baihui Point.
‘His sword domain is vast, and his inner strength is immense. The range of his martial waves must be extraordinary.’
Yeon-shin scrutinized his opponent’s entire body. A single misstep in approaching the robust form of his opponent would cost him his head.
There wasn’t a single gap in Dokgo Gwang’s stance. The air currents around him were extraordinarily dense.
Thus, the only choice was to start with Gwanghwa Sword Style.
There was no alternative.
With a soft scrape, Yeon-shin’s foot grazed the ground. He shifted sideways, applying weight.
Activating Jeong Ga-donggong, he channeled explosive force into his gastrocnemius muscles. The stony ground felt slightly soft beneath his feet.
Simultaneously, his entire meridian system responded. As he recited the martial art manual’s verses, the energy from Jeong Ga-donggong surged outward.
The sword energy he wielded, extracted from the cliffside of Zhongnan Mountain, radiated warmth. The Ipwang Sword in his hand began to glow, heralding the unleashing of a sword technique.
Taak!
Extending his foot forward, Yeon-shin unleashed a horizontal slash, swinging his blade outward from his core.
The air split as the blade’s silvery form traced a straight, radiant path.
Jeeeng!
The Ipwang Sword collided with Dokgo Gwang’s greatsword. A tremendous force coursed through the blade.
The vibration reverberating through the hilt made his grip sting. His hands almost numbed from the impact.
‘His sword energy is on another level.’
Yeon-shin clenched his teeth. With trembling hands, he maintained his grip on the sword.
He realized it immediately—he was outclassed in terms of inner strength. The difference in years spent cultivating their respective energies was staggering.
The fact that the Ipwang Sword didn’t shatter upon impact was a miracle in itself, a testament to the magnitude of Dokgo Gwang’s power.
“Impressive skill. It exceeds what one would expect.”
Dokgo Gwang’s voice was calm as his well-groomed beard swayed slightly. The corners of his lips curled inward—a mixture of admiration and composure.
Speaking while locked in combat was something one could only do against a vastly inferior opponent.
‘I can’t match him in raw power. Victory must come through skill.’
Yeon-shin refused to prolong the clash. He twisted his body abruptly.
Screeeeech!
The blade of the Ipwang Sword slid down Dokgo Gwang’s greatsword. The sensation of grating metal on his palm was harsh.
A layer of energy surrounded Dokgo Gwang’s weapon, far beyond ordinary steel—a manifestation of solidified inner energy.
It signified a mastery over greatsword techniques. In the martial world, greatswords were specifically designed to break through protective energy shields and inner energy armor like Hoshingi or Hoshinganggi.
Yeon-shin’s own Hoshingi was shallow in comparison. If struck, his bones would split along with his flesh.
‘I must avoid prolonged blade clashes.’
Moving like a leaf caught in the wind, Yeon-shin evaded Dokgo Gwang’s heavy kick aimed at his waist.
A burst of powerful energy exploded near his side. The impact felt like being struck by thunderclap explosives, leaving his upper body momentarily unsteady.
At the same time, Dokgo Gwang’s kick transitioned seamlessly into another step. Planting his foot firmly, he swung his greatsword horizontally, aiming to cleave Yeon-shin in two.
The oppressive force carried by the greatsword was so immense that the air screamed under its weight.
Kwaaaaah!
Yeon-shin bent backward sharply, almost lying flat on the ground—a technique resembling the Iron Bridge Stance often used by martial arts masters.
Above him, the massive blade passed like a storm, spraying air currents laced with destructive energy.
It was an incredibly powerful strike. Even his hair, caught in the passing blade’s wind, shot upward.
‘Now!’
A glimmer of opportunity flashed in Yeon-shin’s eyes. Channeling the energy from Jeong Ga-donggong, he contracted the large muscles in his hips and thighs.
Sssaaaak!
The tip of his sword shot upward, targeting Dokgo Gwang’s arm, exploiting the moment when the greatsword had yet to retract.
The faint gleam of Gwanghwa Sword Style trailed in a straight line.
But then—
Without any forewarning, an invisible pressure burst forth from Dokgo Gwang’s hand gripping the greatsword.
Hwaaaak!
A formless wave of inner energy expanded rapidly, like an unyielding fortress wall, crashing toward Yeon-shin.
Still bent low, with his sword raised sharply, Yeon-shin’s hand froze. His entire body shuddered under the sudden pressure.
Losing balance meant death.
Yeon-shin placed his left hand on the ground and kicked upward with his free foot, aiming straight at Dokgo Gwang’s torso.
In that split second, he channeled energy into the Taechung Point on his big toe, infusing his kick with inner strength.
Kwaaaaang!
The collision resounded like the atmosphere itself was being compressed. It was a battle of strikes between masters.
Dokgo Gwang raised his greatsword overhead, intending to bring it down in a final, decisive blow. Meanwhile, Yeon-shin, grounded but defiant, countered with his relentless kicking technique.
The clash of their energies caused the cavern floor to crack and debris to scatter, dust rising in a dense cloud.
“Hmm?”
For the first time, a hint of surprise crossed Dokgo Gwang’s face. The raging vortex of his energy abruptly halted its expansion.
Yeon-shin’s counter-kick had disrupted the storm-like waves of energy, splitting them strand by strand.
It was an extraordinary feat, an innovation in energy manipulation, created on the spot.
For an instant, Dokgo Gwang trembled. Was this what it felt like to witness a fledgling dragon?
“Alas, such talent is wasted on your youth,” Dokgo Gwang sighed, lifting his blade higher. Though the gap in inner strength remained vast, he couldn’t help but lament killing someone with such extraordinary talent.
Strength and mastery might allow him to dominate, but Yeon-shin’s skill had left its mark.
Yeon-shin pressed his foot against the ground, steadying himself as blood trickled from his lips. The overwhelming pressure had taken its toll, his organs aching with the strain.
He stood, pale but resolute.
‘I couldn’t bridge the gap in absolute strength.’
Even with the density of his Jeong Ga-donggong, his opponent’s energy was a force of nature.
“A mere year more of training, and this might have ended differently. Your innate talent is astonishing.”
Dokgo Gwang spoke calmly, his composed demeanor tinged with the regret of a master forced to eliminate a promising rival.
“To wield the imperial blade, you are far too dangerous. Remarkable as you are, young prodigy, your journey ends here.”
“......”
Jeong Yeon-shin lowered his stance without a word, contemplating his next move.
And then—
Tuk!
A hand gently gripped the back of his neck. It was firm, like a stone. At the same time, a familiar wave of energy swept over him—a gentle, breeze-like force. It could only belong to Ma Gwang-ik, Cheongmyeong.
“You’ve come this far, and your growth is astounding,” came a quick whisper near his ear, the words carried on an exhale as though his entire body was refining his inner energy while speaking.
There was no wasted effort. It was the breathing technique of a master from the illustrious clans.
“But what happens if the youngest dies here?”
Ma Gwang-ik’s hand pulled Yeon-shin backward, hurling him away. The boy had no intention of retreating.
Planting his left foot firmly on the ground, he pivoted, ready to launch back into the fray. But just as he prepared to leap forward again, an icy hand devoid of warmth blocked his path.
Standing tall, with her back turned to him, was Baek Mi-ryeo.
Her blue longcoat bore clear traces of the fierce battle she’d endured, and her disheveled hair testified to the ferocity of the clash.
“Yeon-shin, tending to your internal injuries comes first. Know your priorities,” she said, her indifferent tone carrying an undercurrent of concern. It wasn’t the voice of someone addressing the leader of Hwanikdae but that of an elder toward a younger sibling.
“It’s no surprise the interim leader couldn’t win. Against someone like Dokgo Gwang, Geomgalma, it’s expected. He’s a master who could shake all of Sichuan with his presence alone, a formidable figure who rarely meets his match,” said Tae Yeom-ryong with a faint smile as he approached leisurely.
His appearance, however, was anything but composed. How much intense heat-based energy had he expended? His sleeves were entirely torn away, revealing skin covered in sword wounds and blood.
“I’ll stand guard,” he declared, moving to stand alongside Baek Mi-ryeo. His back was as steady as a mountain.
Beyond them, Tang siblings and other Tang Clan martial artists had formed a defensive line. Behind them, Hong Jugeom of Hwanikdae blocked the rear.
Everyone else was locked in fierce battles.
“Master, tend to your injuries,” said Baek Mi-ryeo.
Yeon-shin knew he had no choice.
“Fine.”
Recovery had to come first. He would place his trust in Cheongmyeong. He recalled what he’d learned when he first joined under Ma Gwang-ik’s tutelage: how Cheongmyeong had once faced the Namgung First Sword from the Thirteen Heavens.
‘If that’s true, this might be the time to devise a new inner cultivation technique...’
The irony wasn’t lost on him. If this forced respite allowed him to stabilize his injuries, he might also have the time to explore a transformation in his inner energy.
At that moment—
“The treasure! The treasure’s been stolen!”
“It’s at the southeast entrance! There, over there!”
“A terrifying master is on the move! Regroup the formation!”
A cacophony of shouts erupted from the battlefield. Already chaotic, the field became even more disordered.
Yeon-shin barely had time to sit in a cross-legged position before overwhelming, irregular waves of energy surged toward him.
The presence was elegant yet sinister, like a bat with the wings of a phoenix.
‘It’s here!’
Flutter!
The presence drew near the moment Yeon-shin perceived it, carrying a faint metallic scent of blood.
“I’ve been waiting to see you.”
Silken black hair danced through his vision, obscuring it briefly. The owner of the cold, sharp energy stood right in front of Yeon-shin.
Her crimson lips curved into a smooth arc, and her scarlet eyes gleamed wickedly as she smiled.
It was the Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult.
In an instant, the protective formation of Ipwang Fortress’s masters had been breached.
“What...!”
Yeon-shin saw Tae Yeom-ryong gasp in disbelief as he turned to face the Apostle.
Baek Mi-ryeo reacted more quickly, but her movements were sluggish due to a wound that had already pierced her back.
The Tang siblings and Hong Jugeom collapsed as the Apostle snapped her fingers. A single flick of her fingers sent waves of energy that struck their pressure points, immobilizing them.
At that moment, Yeon-shin was already moving. His blue sleeves fluttered as he thrust his fist forward.
A whirlwind gathered around his punch. It was the second form of Shihwa Muguk Su, True Wall, bursting forth with overwhelming strength.
“Your talent, your spirit, your expression, your body—they grow brighter every time we meet. Up close, you truly shine. You’re utterly dazzling,” the Apostle whispered.
She reached out casually, deflecting Yeon-shin’s punch with a single hand.
Flutter—
Her Pureblood Robe unfurled, the fabric billowing outward in response to the energy storm. In an instant, the area around them was shrouded in red light.
At the center stood Yeon-shin and the Apostle. No one else could see them.
Simultaneously, her other hand brushed aside Yeon-shin’s punch. Her movements were unnervingly smooth, as if she had never trained in hand-to-hand combat yet naturally mastered it.
She pushed Yeon-shin’s elbow inward, then used her other hand to press lightly against his lips. It all happened in an instant.
“...!”
Something foreign slipped into his mouth.
Her fingers, lingering momentarily on his lips, trailed down his cheek and then to his neck.
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Yeon-shin tried to twist his body using Jeong Ga-donggong, but it was too late. His delayed reaction, caused by his internal injuries, betrayed him.
The Apostle’s hand grazed his throat before withdrawing. Despite her proximity, not a single strike had been countered.
Her speed was unimaginable. Every exchange of techniques occurred within the shadow of Ipwang Fortress’s best masters.
“Live long. That was a fragment of Dharmic energy,” she murmured softly. As if drawn back by some invisible force, her Pureblood Robe wrapped itself around her once more.
“We’ll finish our bet next time. See you soon,” she added with a sly smile before leaping away.
The wind spread out in crimson waves as she ascended. Even with his exceptional sensory abilities, Tae Yeom-ryong could do nothing but watch, stunned, as she disappeared.
“What just... happened? Master, are you alive?” he stammered.
“Take defensive positions,” Yeon-shin replied tersely. He had no other choice.
The moment the Apostle’s mysterious substance infiltrated his body, an overwhelming flood of inspiration rose within him like clouds parting after a storm.
He understood instinctively—this was the only way to escape Myeonggondo.
“Senior! Fall back!” someone shouted.
“Regroup the front line! The Sunmaren don’t respond to ordinary techniques!”
The battlefield was in chaos. The number of defenders capable of forming a protective line had noticeably dwindled.
Nearby, only the injured Baek Mi-ryeo and Tae Yeom-ryong remained.
Yeon-shin closed his eyes and seated himself cross-legged.
At that moment—
A luminous flower of light blossomed within his upper Danjeon, flooding his mind with radiant clarity.